


Transgressions

by ChartreuseChanteuse



Series: Crimes and Offenses [2]
Category: The Dukes of Hazzard (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23315380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChartreuseChanteuse/pseuds/ChartreuseChanteuse
Summary: Bo is pretty and Daisy is sexy and Luke is the same old Luke he was last year.
Relationships: Bo Duke/Luke Duke
Series: Crimes and Offenses [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544287
Comments: 21
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Fall 1968**

Bo is pretty and Daisy is sexy and Luke is the same old Luke he was last year. Which is a good enough Luke, he knows it like he always has. He can have confidence that he is perfectly plain and ordinary compared to his two cousins, at least as far as looks go. 

He’s a Duke like his father and uncles were before him, so he can count on one girl or another wanting to hold his hand as they walk the halls of the school from class to class. He knows he will have a cheerleader or two staring at his back as he pushes his way down the field during an after-school football scrimmage. And every now and then a book-smart girl from math or English will make moon-eyes at him, though those are always too shy to get too close. Still, it’s good to know he has them in reserve.

Daisy bears watching in ways she didn’t last year. Just like Bo realized a few things about her just before school started, all the sophomore, junior and senior boys are doing some realizing of their own. They are smart enough to give her a wide berth when Luke is near, but she’s a grade behind, which leaves her on her own most of the day. Luke settles for glowering at any boy he catches ogling any girl, knowing it’s a straight line from the eyes to the—

At least he hasn’t had cause to take anyone out back and dole out a beating that’ll get him suspended and keep him off the football field.

Bo is two grades behind, but funny thing if Luke doesn’t see plenty of him. They pass in the hall far too often to make sense, and happen to share a lunch period. Bo chooses to sit at the same table in Hazzard High’s cramped and antiseptic-white cafeteria with Luke and his friends, who think Luke’s kid cousin is the funniest freshman that ever settled into their midst. Usually they are laughing with Bo, who delivers corny lines with a grin that makes him halfway funny. It’s those times when they are laughing at Bo’s expense that are the real problem, because Luke agrees that Bo needs to be laughed at, just not by the guys. Only by him.

That’s a problem, a real one. Everything has always been between Bo and him with no one else in the middle. Oh, sometimes Enos Strate will show up at the Duke farm, but he’s always more interested in Daisy than Bo or Luke. And Cooter Davenport comes around, but he’s too old for Bo, and mostly too old for Luke. Half the time Luke figures he has actually come to see Uncle Jesse to try and finagle some moonshine out of him.

Anyway, Bo and Luke have always been two peas in a pod that only occasionally contains other peas like Jesse and Daisy. Luke reckons it’s probably because they are a family of bootleggers that has a bunch of secrets to keep. Sure, the whole town knows what they brew up in dark hollows, but they can’t know where or when or even how. Dukes have to rely on each other and only each other.

Which explains, to Luke’s satisfaction anyway, why he’s so annoyed to see Bo charming his friends. And charming girls. Like a bull in a pasture surrounded by heifers, Bo seems to get plenty of attention from the ladies. More than once, Luke has reminded some of the girls his own age that Bo is only fourteen, though it hasn’t stopped them a bit. Nor has Bo’s flirt-with-them-all, kiss-none-of-them approach. If anything, it only makes them flock around him even tighter.

Bo never settles on any one girl until the leaves are just starting to turn and the weather finally cools enough to be pleasant. Then, quite suddenly one early October day, he is strolling the halls hand-in-hand with Peggy Lynn Kidwell. Luke puts it down to the fact that the two already know each other – maybe a bit too well, given that Bo stared wide-eyed at her when Luke used to take her out and run his hand right up her shirt to feel her warm, heavy breasts – and that Peggy Lynn is probably just using his baby cousin to get his attention, to make him come back to her. Won’t last more than one afternoon, he assures himself.

But the next day, instead of coming over to Luke’s usual table to join him, Dobro, Brody, Hank and Pete, Bo sits with Peggy Lynn at lunch. Neither of them so much as turns their head to see if Luke’s watching, which of course he’s not. Just, Dobro keeps laughing at how Bo is with Luke’s old girl and Pete says that she picked herself a real nice-looking Duke this time. Luke makes it through lunch without losing his cool, but only because he is able to sidetrack Pete with talk about the upcoming game that he and Hazzard High’s left tackle will play this Saturday.

In a break during that same afternoon’s football practice, Luke heads over to the sideline where the cheerleaders are chanting and bouncing. This is why he dated Peggy Lynn in the first place – she looks fantastic in motion, especially in that band-aid-sized cheerleader uniform. He lets himself admire her for a second or three before he calls her closer. Tells her that if she wants him back, she should just be honest about it and stop messing around with Bo. She giggles at what isn’t in the least funny and says that Bo is sweet and gentle in all the ways Luke was rough and pushy. She likes him just fine and plans to keep seeing him, thank you very much. Luke reminds her that he’s just a kid, only fourteen to her sixteen and she laughs some more. Tells him to mind his own business, and that Bo is more mature than he is.

Which goes to show how little she knows about Bo. 

Anyway, he reckons she’s just clinging death-tight to what little dignity she has by answering back to him and besides, Coach Barron is hollering for him to get back on the field, so he lets it be.

Until Wednesday, which is the third day of the school week and the third day Peggy Lynn and Bo are cozying up to one another. Should have known Peggy Lynn would be a lost cause. The girl never has had a lick of sense. He leaves her be, but catches Bo just as school lets out. Daisy’s nearby, chatting with friends, but Bo is mercifully alone, just waiting for his female cousin to shake herself loose and join him for their walk home.

“Peggy Lynn’s off limits,” he informs his cousin, and he means it. Whether by merit of his words or the bark of his command, he’s got Bo’s rapt attention. Cocked eyebrow and acid curve at the corner of Bo’s lip go to show he’s got something to say on the matter. Luke could be polite and wait for it, but he’s busy, he’s Bo’s elder and he doesn’t have the patience. “I mean it, keep your hands off her.”

“Don’t see why I should,” Bo snarks back at him, hand on his hip and he’s never done a better imitation of Daisy in his entire life. “The way I see it, she likes my hands on her just fine.”

“That don’t matter none,” Luke informs him. Even if what Bo says is true, and it sure seems to be. “Look, you’re almost fifteen. Maybe you ain’t grown up enough to know yet, but you ought to be. You got to stay away from girls that your friends have dated.”

“You and me ain’t friends, Luke.” Sounds like he means it, and Luke would believe it, too, if there weren’t those stupid too-easy tears shining in Bo’s eyes.

“I reckon you can find yourself another lunch table to eat at, permanent, then.” Luke’s arms fold across his chest.

“Reckon I’ll just keep eating with Peggy Lynn.”

“Bo.” His voice is cold in contrast to the hot fury in his belly. “Don’t make me whip your tail.”

“Whose tail?” That’s Daisy, suddenly at Bo’s side. Staring at Luke, like he’s all that exciting to look at. And maybe he is, if his face is half a pink as it feels. Bo’s is as red as his eyes, his chin is jutted and his mouth is open like he’s got more to say on the subject. “What are y’all fighting about?”

“Nothing,” Luke answers tightly.

Bo’s mouth widens, and for a nervous second it looks like he actually plans to answer her – or cry for real – until it snaps shut again, and he turns away with a pout louder than a clap of thunder. 

“Bo?” Daisy’s saying. “What’s wrong with him, Luke?”

“He’s fine, Daisy,” comes out every bit a command at his youngest cousin. _Be fine_. “I got to go the football practice. I’ll see you both,” emphasis on that last word for Bo’s sake, “when I get home.”

Bo walks away without looking back, shoulders and head low. Daisy goes after him, with a hateful look over her shoulder.

_What did you do to him?_

_You don’t want to know._

Football practice is ridiculous – the field is muddy, Luke’s athletic shoes are about worn out at the soles, and the ball is slipperier than a butter-slicked corncob. His blocking fails and he turns an ankle during footwork, and by the time he is in the locker room changing from sweatpants to jeans he is long past tired and hungry besides. But he still has to walk home and do his share of the chores – alone, because Bo and Daisy have already done theirs and are inside doing homework while Jesse puts together whatever the evening meal is going to be – before he can even sit down for a minute to rest.

Not that supper turns out to be restful. From the time Luke washes up in the too-hot kitchen after bedding down the livestock, to the moment when Jesse starts dishing out the sow’s belly and beans, Luke is treated to constant chatter from Daisy and complete silence from Bo. The only reprieve from the lopsided communication is Jesse’s deep-toned grace, which shuts Daisy up and forces Bo to mumble a responding _amen_. 

“Anyways,” Daisy picks up right where she left off. “I heard tell that Hughie Hogg is sweet on Sally Jo, but I been friends with her since we was just tykes and there ain’t no way she is dumb enough to go out with him.”

Bo is staring at his plate with full concentration, which would be normal if he was eating at his usual breakneck speed instead of stabbing and sawing at his meat like it has disparaged him and he means to teach it a lesson.

Jesse is barely treading water, caught up in the current of Daisy’s saga, which is a mercy. It delays his realization that Bo isn’t inhaling his food. 

“And then Sally Jo, well she won’t say it, but I think maybe she’s sweet on Bo over there.” She tilts her chin low and offers up an almost shy smile in Bo’s direction. “But I don’t reckon he’s interested in her, seeing as he’s—”

“Pass the beans,” Luke all but shouts. “Please,” he adds hastily when he gets a bit more of Jesse’s attention than he really wants.

Tactical mistake on Luke’s part, the beans are in front of Bo. Who is sitting right across from him and heck, Luke could have gotten the beans without hardly reaching, but instead of passing them directly across, Bo passes them to his left to Daisy, who has to pass them to Jesse at the head of the table before they can come to Luke. 

Daisy finds Luke fascinating, it seems. She’s stopped talking now to stare at him. Then to look at Bo before coming back to stare at him some more. Light in her eyes like she has figured something out, but she doesn’t know the half of it. 

She stops talking, anyway. Blessedly.

Most of the rest of dinner is a lot quieter. Also endless, as their uncle takes his time, chewing each bean individually while watching over them. Bo rediscovers his appetite after a while and manages to put away at least two-thirds his usual amount. Daisy handles her own dainty portion around all that thinking-she-knows-what’s-going-on she’s doing. Luke figures he does a fine job of appearing perfectly normal, and doesn’t demand that any more food be passed in his direction.

“Luke, you got any homework you got to get to?” Jesse asks, somewhere around the time that most of the plates are empty. 

“Not really.” Just some math, but he’s got plans to do that tomorrow morning. Because he is an upper-classman now, he gets a free period every other day. Most of the guys like to go down to the cafeteria and play cards during their free periods, but there’s only so many times Luke can stand to watch Dobro lose his lunch money, anyway. He is content to find a quiet corner to do his homework if it affords him a little open time in the evening.

“Good. You,” Jesse’s pointing at him, hesitating, dragging his thick finger over to Bo and stopping, “and you, go out and get a real good look at the corn.” Their uncle isn’t quite sure where the problem is, but it’s always a good guess that it’s between Bo and Luke. Besides, this will leave the old man alone with Daisy to interrogate her thoroughly. “And don’t come back until you’re either ready to confess what’s bothering you or work it out yourselves. But I expect you back here by 8:30.” 

Well. If those aren’t a contradictory set of instructions. Don’t come home until you work out a summer-long spell of stupidity, but be back in just under two hours. Sure thing.

“What about that peach cobbler?” And leave it to Bo to make the spell even stupider.

“It’ll wait,” is almost as chilly and dark as Jesse’s hooded eyes.

“Yes, sir.” Bo may not be the smartest, but he always catches on eventually. Skipping cobbler peacefully is wiser than losing out on dessert and getting your breeches warmed as a bonus.

They leave their dishes in the sink – one benefit to this forced exile is that they won’t have to help clean the kitchen tonight – and pull on their boots and jackets on their way out the door. 

“Luke—”

They are hardly off the porch and his fool cousin really thinks he’ll stop right here to have what promises to be a loud and uncomfortable discussion. Luke picks up the pace; they need to be at least a few hundred more yards away before this starts up. 

“Luke—” His dumb cousin is trotting along after him, barking for his attention like that useless, fluffy, white lap dog of Mrs. Tillingham’s. Luke might as well pet him on the head and call him Fifi.

“Shut up,” Luke hisses at him. “Leastwise until we get away from the house.”

There’s a sigh behind him – hard to tell if it’s angry or sad or just out of breath. “Slow down, then,” comes out as a pant. Bo never has been long on stamina. He’s got speed, but no staying power, and he’ll need to work on that before Freshman football scrimmages start in the spring. That is, if he wants to make the team next fall and play alongside Luke next year. Which Luke has always assumed he would, but then again, Bo sometimes surprises him. Like he did this summer with that little kissing act of his.

Luke slows down just enough to keep Bo from complaining at him until he hits the edge of the cornfield. Picks himself a row like all the others, dark and endless in the sideways light of evening, and marches down it. A fellow could disappear in here.

“Luke!” Unless of course, he was being followed by his annoying cousin. “You ain’t really going to check the corn? Jesse don’t really want us to check the corn.”

Bless Bo for all the times he has tried to insist that Jesse doesn’t really want them to work, and all the licks from a whip that haven’t ever convinced him otherwise. Luke stops and turns on his heel to find Bo practically tripping to keep from smacking right into him.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Bo informs him.

“I’m ridiculous? I ain’t the one chasing after a girl that’s two years older than me, following after her like a dog after scraps.”

Bo’s eyebrows crash down so hard it looks like it ought to hurt, and his face folds into that same red mess of lines it has since he was an angry toddler denied a shiny toy. For a second only, then he does this new thing, something he’s only picked up in the last year or so. His head tips at a haughty angle, eyes shiny and snapping and almost black.

“I wasn’t chasing after her. She come chasing after me.”

Luke wants to hit him, to wipe that thing that’s not a frown and not a smirk, but is taunting all the same, right off of his face. To see him sit down hard and—

He pushes Bo aside like an overambitious offensive lineman and marches back the way he came, to the beat of _away, before I hit him_. _Before I have to explain to Jesse, once again, that my temper got away from me, before the whip licks at my backside as a reminder of what it’s like to be smaller, weaker, to have someone I admire hit me._

There’s a crunch and crackle of dried leaves behind him, followed by—

“What do you want me to do?” There’s a catch in the shout. “You’re the one who said I was supposed to go with girls.” A rough, wet catch. “Now I’m with a girl—” Luke sighs, stops marching, runs a hand up through his hair. “A girl you don’t even want, Luke, don’t pretend you do—” Slaps his hand down against his leg and turns to face Bo. Bo, with the red face, red eyes, red lower lip that he is biting to keep himself from crying.

Damn it, Luke hates it when Bo cries and he can’t even say why, if it’s because he doesn’t want Bo to feel bad, or he doesn’t want to feel bad himself, or—

Luke sucks in a breath, huffs it back out, runs a hand through his hair again. Always makes such a mess of the stuff. “I knew you was ready for girls.” And that they would be ready for him, growing like a weed, his chest broadening and his smile flirting without effort. “I just reckon you ought to stay away from ones that much older than you, is all.” A solid nod to affirm the truth he has just spoken.

“You’re that much older than me, should I stay away from you?”

Aw, hell. Probably. In all the ways Luke can think of, Bo should stay away from him. Bo’s height masks the kid he still is. He should stay away from Luke’s trouble-making, his rough edges, his wild driving. There’s a reason he’s not yet allowed to go on moonshine runs, and it’s the exact same reason he shouldn’t be making out with Peggy Lynn.

But everywhere Luke has led, Bo has followed, whether it’s a good idea or not. Because Luke’s the closest thing he’s got to an older brother, confidant, best friend. They share a history of loss, a legacy of moonshine runners, a love of fast-moving fun and a healthy fear of Jesse’s whip. And Luke lets him follow along because he’s never really known life any other way. He lets Bo follow along because it’s been his role ever since their aunt died – looking after Bo, teaching him how to do everything from hunting to throwing a curve ball to, well, what became an out-of-control lesson in kissing. He lets Bo follow along because, heck, he likes him there, at his side or close behind, grinning his fool’s grin, keeping up his silly chatter and admiring everything Luke does. 

Bo is calming down, now, watching Luke. Waiting, in all earnestness, for an answer to his question. As if Luke is going to tell him, _Sure, stay away from me._ _I’ll just sleep in the barn; I’m sure Jesse and Daisy won’t notice a thing._

“I reckon we should make some ground rules.”

“Ain’t we already done that?” Leave it to Bo to think one set of rules is enough to last a lifetime. 

“We made summer rules. Now we’re back in school we got to figure out some more.”

“I hate school.” 

Luke laughs, feeling the tension in his shoulders melt away the way it always does when it’s just him and Bo, with no one in between them to throw off their natural balance. Bo smiles back at him, the lazy late sun catching in his hair, making his skin glow. He’s so pretty like that.

“Reckon that’s normal.” Even if nothing else he’s about to say is. “Anyways, there’s always more rules at school than at home.” And more eyes watching a pair of Duke boys, too. “So, at school we stay away from each other. We don’t never do nothing at school that we wouldn’t want someone like Hughie Hogg catching us at, then going squealing all over the place about. In school, we go with girls.”

There go Bo’s eyebrows, lowering as if to point out that it was going with girls – and Luke telling him to go with girls – that got them into this mess to begin with. Luke raises his hand, like he can stave off Bo’s complaints with that little. 

“We got to, Bo. People expect us to.” 

“Peggy Lynn’s a girl,” Bo reminds him, jutting his chin, and he’s not so pretty now.

“We can’t go with the same girls as each other. That’s only going to cause problems.” Like Peggy Lynn leading Bo to places that Luke doesn’t want him to go. Not with her, anyway. “Like people asking questions and making comments and maybe even Peggy Lynn’s daddy talking to Jesse if word gets back to him.” The only secrets Hazzard folk manage to keep from each other is where everyone’s stills are hiding. “You’re in ninth grade, Bo. You ought to be spending time with ninth-graders. Could get back to Jesse if you’re messing with girls that are older than you.”

“I reckon Jesse would be more worried about me messing with girls that are younger.” Fair point.

“Anyways, we only go with girls in school. When we walk out them doors, don’t no girls come with us—”

“Except Daisy—”

“Except Daisy. We don’t never see girls outside of school.” That ought to keep Bo out of trouble for a couple of years, anyway, until he starts to learn which nooks and corners of the school are the best places to take a girl for a little necking. “When we’re outside of school, it’s just us.”

Bo smiles at that, steps up and closes the distance between them. Funny, Luke has an urge to hug him. Instead, he glances back along the way they came, squinting into the golden light of low hanging sun. No one there, so he turns back to Bo, barely has time to tilt his head to the side before Bo is leaning in. A kiss as warm as the summer they left behind. Bo’s tongue, not as tentative now, pushing its way into Luke’s mouth and a moan that ought to be funny, but isn’t. Bo’s hand, hot and steady on his face – this isn’t the same shy boy who didn’t know how to touch him when they kissed in July. Bo has learned a few things, maybe from Peggy Lynn, but Luke doesn’t care. Not right now when Bo’s lips, tongue and hand are distracting his brain.

Luke pulls away before Bo is ready. Funny smack between their lips that makes them both laugh.

“We should go back,” Luke decides. The sun is more down than up now.

“Ain’t 8:30,” Bo informs him. “Reckon we got time to do a little more of that.”

Luke figures he should pull rank, should insist on going back to show Jesse that all is well, and yet all he can think is that Bo isn’t right very often, but when he is right, he’s really right.


	2. Chapter 2

The problem with _not at school_ is that there is too much school. Always has been, but it’s worse now. Between weekday football practice and Saturday morning games followed by afternoon parties when they win, Luke practically _lives_ at school. Even when he’s home, Bo barely sees him, between his chores and the moonshine runs he does on Saturday nights. He’s allowed to sleep in on Sundays until church time, which is followed by visiting time, then dinner time and the next thing Bo knows it’s Monday and the whole thing starts all over again. It’s enough to drive a perfectly normal boy batty.

Bo has stopped seeing girls. Breaking up with Peggy Lynn was a mite ugly, what with her making a public scene of it and all. Bo can’t half figure it out, why she would make such a fool of herself in the middle of a crowded hallway, but it hadn’t been much fun for him, either. Her screeching at him about how wasn’t it just like a Duke to treat a lady like a milking cow and squeeze all he wanted out of her then leave her to—

And through it all, the yelling, the stares, the teachers telling them to settle down or they’d both be sent to the principal, all Bo could see behind his eyes was Luke’s smug grin informing him that he was just a kid and shouldn’t have been messing with a girl that was two years older than him anyway.

Bo hasn’t so much as held the hand of another girl since, which is part because no girl wants him around right now, and part because he figures Luke doesn’t much want him seeing girls at all. Even if he says different.

Bo isn’t seeing girls, and he isn’t seeing Luke, either. All he is seeing is teachers and mule stalls and homework and then the insides of his eyelids until the sunrise gets him up to repeat the cycle. It’s boring, and he misses Luke, even though they sleep only a few feet apart.

He makes the mistake of complaining to Jesse about how Luke’s never home and when he is, he’s always busy. He winds up learning a new definition of farm chores and even gets lent out to the Millers down the road as their chore-doer on weekends. Which really isn’t all that bad; sure there are barn chores, but after that he spends time exercising the horses. It would be fun, if only Luke were here, too.

He wishes Jesse’s eyes wouldn’t twinkle quite so much when he makes it home each night just in time for the evening meal, too exhausted to complain. He and Luke don’t fight at the dinner table anymore.

Heck, they don’t fight or talk or even much see each other anywhere other than morning chores, and Bo can’t swear he even opens his eyes for those.

They don’t see each other at lunch, either. Bo has been doing what he was told and sticking with the other ninth graders.

_And where, exactly, has doing what Luke told you to do gotten you so far?_

Just about the time he’s thinking he’s about as tired as he has ever been, harvest comes. Jesse picks the Columbus Day weekend, which means they don’t exactly get a holiday, just more work, and then back to school with the admonishment from their uncle not to fall asleep in class. Which isn’t fair when they all know Jesse will be napping the afternoon away.

And Luke goes right back to his crazy schedule that very Monday, so on Tuesday, Bo goes back to his. Somewhere around Thursday or Friday he complains to Daisy about how Luke’s hardly ever home and awake, with how busy he is.

“Reckon that’s how he likes it best, sugar,” is all she has to say on the matter.

The Hazzard Rebels have themselves a winning season, which means championship games in neighboring counties, and an extended football season.

Bo turns 15 in the first week of November and figures maybe he ought to take up with Peggy Lynn again. At least – is a sad little thought that nags at him – when they are fighting, Luke is devoting an ounce or two of attention to him. Or maybe he should start wearing Luke’s football jersey like girls wear their beaus’. That would garner him some notice. Then again, he could—

Daisy solves it for him by taking up with Donald McLaughlin, a senior with a regrettable case of acne and an unfortunately loud voice. He can sweet-talk enough to make a man’s teeth rot right out of his head, but Daisy eats it up like country-fair cotton candy. _He’s got a great smile_ is Daisy’s explanation of what she sees in him. All Bo sees is that he flirts an awful lot and doesn’t seem to be half as committed as Daisy does to whatever is going on between them. Luke’s busy being a football star, so Bo takes it upon himself to keep an eye on Daisy. It’s only a few whirlwind days into their great romance when Bo comes upon the couple just outside the school’s doors at the end of the day, Donald’s hand tightening around Daisy’s arm as she tries to pull herself away.

“You’re hurting me,” she informs her fine, upstanding jerk of a boyfriend. 

“Stop,” Donald chastises her, like he has half the right. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Bo doesn’t count ten or ask for explanations. Doesn’t even give verbal warning, just lunges himself at Donald with all the pent up fury of—

He doesn’t even know. Doesn’t think about what he’s doing or why, just finds himself grabbing Donald’s arm and spinning him around the take a swing at his face.

It’s right about then that he realizes his fist has to arc upward to find its mark. Donald, who Bo hasn’t had cause to see up close since he was 7 and Donald was 10, is not short. He’s not small, either, given the way his shoulders bunch when he ducks away from Bo’s swing. Bo’s body follows through on his effort, just about taking him off his feet when his fist strikes nothing but air. It’s good form at a bad time – Donald recovers quickly and throws a quick and dirty rabbit punch that falls just to the right of Bo’s solar plexus. Daisy’s hollering something, but it gets lost in the din of other, suddenly-raised voices.

Everything screeches to a halt as Bo finds himself on his backside, sucking in air that never seems to make it to his lungs, thinking that at least if Donald is glaring at him with all the intent in the world of flattening him into the pavement, at least he’s no longer pawing at Daisy. 

And then it all speeds up again, Donald spinning, twisting, falling—

Luke. Pulling Bo up with one hand, none too gently, while shaking out the fingers on his other hand.

“You okay?” comes at him, laced with worry and anger, never a good mix for Luke. He offers a breathless nod in answer, puts his hands on his knees and gasps for breath. Daisy’s still hollering, other kids are begging for more of a fight while Luke offers a hand down to Donald and that’s when the shiny, black shoes come into Bo’s view. Things get real quiet.

“Principal Wilson,” Luke greets, cool and confident as anything.

Not that Luke’s attitude helps them one bit. So close to leaving school for the day and Bo, Luke and Donald get to spend an extra half hour in the principal’s office. A lecture and reminder that there is never any excuse for hitting anyone, the well-being and virtue of family members notwithstanding, while Daisy waits outside somewhere, not having been invited to this awkward little party. Phone calls are made, and when Principal Wilson can’t reach Jesse – of course not, farm boys’ guardians aren’t much expected to be near a phone – they get sent home with a note, while Donald waits to be picked up by his father. A two-day suspension all around because the school rules are clear about fighting, no matter who does the hitting and who gets hit.

“Damn it, Bo,” Luke mumbles under his breath as soon as they are out the front doors of the school. Where there was a shouting crowd not so long ago, now there is only Daisy, in her own toe-tapping snit of a mood.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” is her greeting, whether to him or to Luke, Bo doesn’t know. Doesn’t care. He’s about sick of getting sniped at for—

“I was protecting you.” Which is what Luke has done since they were little, and what Bo wouldn’t have had to do if Luke wasn’t so dang busy all the time. 

“I don’t need you to protect me,” from his left, where Daisy has joined them for the trudge home. Where Luke will present Jesse with the letter in his pocket with the announcement that Bo started it. “I can take care of myself.”

“He had his hands on you,” Bo snaps at her. “He’s twice your size,” might just be the slightest exaggeration.

“He’s a baseball player,” from his right, could be Luke defending him or scolding him, hard to tell.

“I could have handled him,” Daisy insists, kicking uselessly at the dust as they leave the paved parking lot to head along the most direct path home. The same route Bo and Luke took that summer day in the pickup, when Luke wouldn’t kiss him under the bleachers. 

“Exactly how were you going to handle him?” He’s big and dumb, but as Luke has pointed out, an athlete. Strong.

“I could have,” Daisy repeats, which doesn’t explain a single thing, and why is everyone mad at him?

“I done the right thing,” Bo maintains, maybe a bit louder than he means to.

“You done a stupid thing,” Luke offers up for consideration. 

Daisy moves a little further off to his left, putting enough distance between herself and the two of them that she can honestly say she stayed out of whatever fight they are about to get into.

“How was looking after Daisy a stupid thing?”

“Hitting Donald was a stupid thing. Don’t you never think, Bo?”

Funny thing, the two of them seem to have stopped walking and are facing each other on the trail, just enough gap between the trees for them to get right back into that fistfight, only this time without a big lunk of stupid boyfriend in between them.

“What should I have done? He had his hands on her!”

“Did you tell him to let go?”

“She told him to let go!”

“But did _you?_ Didn’t you never listen to Jesse? Don’t you know you’re supposed to try to reason first?”

“But he had his hands on her!” It’s a perfectly logical answer. That’s why he keeps saying it, not because some part of him thinks Luke might just be the slightest bit right.

“I could have taken care of him myself,” comes from somewhere over there, out of his field of vision, which is narrowed down to Luke and only Luke. Who doesn’t even have the grace to be red in the face, when Bo figures his own face is near-about purple. 

“Hush up,” they both tell her. No need for any more truth here – the two Duke boys are mad enough at each other to fight and Bo doesn’t even know why.

“I will not hush up and you two will stop this nonsense right now,” they get informed. Bo spares a glance in her direction to find her with one hand on her hip and her lips pressed into each other hard enough to leave them white. She is not amused, and heck, Bo would rather fight Luke than her any day. At least Luke usually pulls his punches. “You boys are in enough trouble for something I didn’t need your help with in the first place. You ain’t gonna drag me down into it with you by fighting like a couple of dang locked-horn bulls that don’t know no better. Now you just snap out of it, and start marching home.”

They snap and they march. The one time Bo dares to glance at Luke, he finds those pretty blue eyes have picked up a glitter that doesn’t look any too friendly. He figures keeping his eyes and thoughts to himself is probably his best plan.

It's an awful long walk home in silent thought about Jesse’s whip and how long it’s been since he has felt its humiliating bite at his backside. And then the walk becomes too short when the house looms, but the barn is closer, and that’s where they find Jesse. Whose surprise at seeing Luke home when he’s supposed to be at football practice turns to a grim nod when the note gets handed over.

“We-ell, looks like I got me a couple of boys that are gonna do an awful lot of extra work around here for the next couple of days,” is all he says.


	3. Chapter 3

Damn Bo and his too-quick fists, damn Daisy and her disastrously bad taste in guys. Of course Luke has known all along who she took up with, and of course he was keeping an eye on her and her beau. Luke knows exactly what Donald wants from a girl, because it’s the same thing everyone else in the boys’ locker room wants from a girl. And he has spent plenty of time in the same locker room with Donald, who is captain of the high school baseball team and plays second base to Luke’s shortstop. By spring they are going to have to get past what Luke did to him today. By spring, Donald is going to have to get past getting socked by a freshman, too, because Bo ought to be good enough to make the team.

But that’s all a problem for a different season. Right now he’s got bigger troubles.

The ladder to the loft gives up an unsatisfying rattle of a complaint when Luke kicks it. Indulging in a temper tantrum because he can. The cousins have been separated, Daisy inside on the pretense of doing homework, Bo on the porch under no pretense at all, and Luke left behind here so Jesse can get their independent stories about how it has come to pass that he has two extra helpers not only for two days, but surely four. After all, the weekend comes along right in the middle of their suspension. 

The weekend! He can’t believe he has taken this long to manage to add two and two. Damn it all, double damn Bo and his hotheaded ways, triple damn the damned weekend—

Another kick to the ladder does nothing at all to help his mood.

“Reckon you’ll hurt your foot if you keep that up,” is how Jesse announces his return to the barn. Great, it’s Luke’s turn to get a deep and meaningful lecture about fighting and how it never solved a single thing. At least he’s too old to be whipped. Or, he hopes he is, anyway. “Shh-shh-shh,” Jesse adds, but that part is not aimed at Luke, but rather his mule, Maudine. “Luke ain’t gonna make no more noises now, you ain’t got to get upset.” As if the dang mule is ever anything other than upset. Hell, she’s been a moody, disagreeable beast for as long as she’s been on the farm.

“We’ve been suspended for two days!”

This is not, his uncle’s raised eyebrows tell him, the anticipated opening argument. “I know that, Luke.”

“I’m gonna kill Bo.” Only one of Jesse’s eyebrows stays up, questioning why he thinks this is a wise thing to say at this point.

Wise – who cares what’s wise? Did Jesse ask Bo what was wise, even silently? No, of course not, because everyone knows Bo is just going to do whatever he wants without giving it any serious thought. 

“Simmer down.”

“Jesse! Two days! Tomorrow and Monday! Which means I ain’t allowed to be on campus over the weekend!”

Jesse sighs as his other eyebrow drops out of its skeptical tilt, and for a moment, Luke would swear he sees a glimmer of understanding in his uncle’s eyes.

“You’ll miss the game.” Not just a game, the championship game. “Luke, Bo says it weren’t your fault. That you was just protecting him after he took a hit, and that he was just protecting Daisy, who says she don’t need no protecting. Now,” comes out a little louder when Luke opens his mouth to reply. Jesse interrupting before he can be interrupted. “I’m inclined to believe his story because A, he don’t lie and B, he offered to take a whipping if I could see my way clear to not punishing you nor Daisy.”

Luke’s lips press into each other at all the angry things he can’t say. Not right now when Bo went and did the right thing by telling Jesse the truth.

“Now, I know you ain’t any too happy to miss that game.”

That’s an understatement if Luke has ever heard one.

“It ain’t just any game, it’s—”

“The championship, I know. And there ain’t nothing to be done about that now. Dukes, we don’t always do what the system tell us to do, but we always do what’s right. And when we do what’s right, we accept the consequences with our heads high.”

Luke huffs, steadies himself. What else can he do? He knows this lecture backwards, forwards and sideways, and to be honest, he kind of likes it. It reminds him why he is such a proud Duke. Even if the wagging of Jesse’s forefinger annoys him.

“Besides, you’re just a junior. You can always play a championship game next year.” Sure, if the team makes it that far. “And then you get to do it with your cousin at your side, because he’ll be on the team, too.” His uncle’s doing a lot of seeing into the future today. “Luke, it ain’t a big deal to miss this game, or getting yourselves suspended, though I expect you to make up every bit of work that you miss, and help Bo with his work if he needs it. The most important thing is family, and that don’t just mean protecting them. It means loving them.” Loving them, well, if Bo got this same lecture there are bound to be thoughts in his head about love. “You got to trust them like no one else, bond with them like glue, like you ain’t different people, but like you’re all one.” Oh, he and Bo have bonded, all right. “Now, I want you boys work out whatever has been going on between the two of you since school started. Reckon you could tell me about whatever it is, so’s I could help you.”

Luke’s lips – which have been places Jesse doesn’t want to know anything about – are sealed. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Your cousin didn’t tell me, neither.” Thank heavens for small mercies. Jesse pulls that ragged red bandana out of his overalls, the one he never lets Daisy wash, and pats at his own forehead. Apparently talking to mule-stubborn nephews is sweaty work. “Well, you ain't give me no choice. Go inside and start packing up your things.” Well, that seems a little harsh. “You boys is going hunting for the next three days, starting first thing in the morning.” Oh.

“Hunting?” Seems like a strange punishment for a couple of boys who love a good hunt.

“Yep, and while you’re out there, I want you two boys to resolve whatever this thing is that’s gotten between you. You got that?”

Sure. No problem.


	4. Chapter 4

He and Luke have not, despite to all appearances to the contrary, been set loose upon the land to enjoy their ingloriously gained long weekend. Instructions and expectations have been doled out in equal measure: they are to stay out for three full days and two nights, rain or shine. They will be sent with a picnic lunch, but otherwise are expected to feed themselves from the land. They are expected to meet Jesse every morning at the still site before first light to hand over any larger kills and otherwise allow themselves to be lectured some more on the importance of a solid, uninterrupted education. They are to be at peace with each other, with school, and with any future boyfriends Daisy might have, by the time they get back. Oh, and since their flirtatious cousin will be doing their chores while they are gone, they should expect to do plenty of hers once they get back. 

But all of that can be worried about later, Bo figures. Right now, the rising sun’s orange rays are just starting to chase away the night’s chill, and the frost-turned-dew is dampening their boots and the hems of their jeans as they make their way across their own fields toward the tree line and the woods beyond. Sweet smell of recently turned earth and Bo reckons the next three days spent hunting with Luke constitute about as perfect a long weekend as he has ever had. Even the pack on his shoulder feels light.

The first hour they trek in silence, and Bo reckons Luke is still sore about missing the football championship. He can’t really blame him for that, so he lets it go and just follows where Luke leads.

By the second hour he figures it’s not doing Luke any good to stew. The dummy always overthinks everything and makes himself miserable, so Bo tries talking to him. About how pretty the morning is, about the deer he plans to bring home, about the classroom he’s glad not to be sitting in. He never gets more than a grunt of a response. They are crossing Harper’s Meadow, and the sun is getting a bit warmer than he would like.

In the third hour, Luke reminds him that hunting works much better if the hunters stay quiet. He reminds Luke that hunting works much better when there’s game around, which right now, there isn’t.

In the fourth hour, Bo realizes that Luke means to walk him to death. He’s just about sick of all but running to keep up, so he stops. Drops his pack heavily to one side and sits on a fallen log near the edge of one of Hazzard’s many unnamed ponds. Luke can keep going until midnight for all Bo cares, because the picnic basket is right here with him. He opens it, makes a noisy show of how good the food smells, pulls out a chicken leg and takes a bite. He’s just letting out a hearty _Mmmm_ when Luke’s shadow looms over him. His cousin huffs, sits and grabs the picnic basket out of Bo’s left hand. 

“Jesse would whip you if you did that at his table,” Bo informs him.

“Jesse ain’t here,” Luke answers and Bo considers it progress. That’s four times as many syllables as he’s gotten all day.

In the fifth hour, he resolves to give Luke a taste of his own medicine and shuts his mouth. He manages a full five minutes before he can’t stand it and starts talking again.

In the sixth hour, he gets bitten by a late season horsefly and lets out a holler that startles a bevy of quail. Luke raises the shotgun and fells one before he turns back to check on Bo. Looks at the bite on the back of his neck, tsks, blows on it (and that doesn’t help the bite, but makes Bo’s knees go weak and puts really interesting ideas into his head), pats him on the shoulder and congratulates him on finding tonight’s dinner for them. Then he strides off into the tall grass to collect his kill.

In the seventh hour, Bo stays mostly quiet, trying not to touch the horsefly bite and thinking about the feel of Luke’s breath on his neck. 

In the eighth hour, he realizes Luke is a genius. The forced march up to this point hasn’t been any fun, but now they are no more than a half mile from Jesse’s current still site. The way Luke drops the quail, tent and bedrolls he’s been carrying tells Bo that this will be their campsite and base of operations. If they manage to get a deer, they won’t have to carry it all that far to get it to their uncle, who can drive it home.

There’s more heavy breathing (which gives Bo a reminiscent chill as his mind drifts to Luke blowing on his neck) than talking as they set up the pup tent, gather some kindling, break up some larger branches to make a spit, and make a fire circle. Luke stays behind to tend to the plucking and cooking while Bo wanders off the long way to the stream to refill their canteens. He spends the entire walk trying to come up with the right words to put an end to the quiet between them, but his brain stopped working somewhere in those moments after the horsefly bit him, so he gives up. 

Cooking over a fire is a long, slow process, so Bo pretends to hunt some more until he hears the tell-tale, not-quite-right bobwhite call that means Luke wants him back in camp. Turns out it is time to eat, which keeps their mouths full of food. Not that they have ever played by Jesse Duke’s kitchen table rules when camping before, but as the sun’s lazy last rays stretch across the land tonight, it is convenient to pretend at manners. Until, that is, he has to wipe his chin with his sleeve. There’s nothing quite as juicy as fowl cooked over an open fire.

Luke makes a big show of heading for the stream to wash their mess kits, and Bo figures he really had better come up with something worth saying or they will be stuck together in a pup tent while whatever is under that thick skin of his cousin’s festers. Luke probably won’t smother him in his sleep, but it never pays to be too sure about such things.

But once Luke is back, they both sit with their legs stretched out, feet all but melting near the fire. Bo’s about to point out the chubby moon that’s just starting to peek over Frog Mountain at them when Luke clears his throat. Bo spares a look at him to see his lips moving, but nothing coming out. Bo settles way back on his haunches and watches the sparks disappear into the darkness. Luke will come out with whatever it is when he’s good and ready. He’s like a watched pot that only boils when you pretend not to care that it’s simmering. Try to rush it and you might just get singed.

That throat clears again. Bo rolls his eyes toward the sound, makes no other moves. Playing dead is always a good plan when there might be a bear lurking within his cousin.

“Bo.” Yeah, that’s his name. Only person here, not much need to call him by it. It’s just a placeholder, so Bo doesn’t do much more than smirk. Here he spent the whole day trying to figure out what to say and it turns out Luke is as tongue tied as he is. “Jesse says we got to settle this thing between us before we get back. I figure maybe the only way to do that is to…”

He has to turn his head to get a better look, and then he has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. For all that Luke is good with words and a real slick talker, he has a limited vocabulary. It’s the small words that elude him, like _love_ , and right now, _kiss_. Luke’s frustrated hand is gesturing back and forth between the two of them, his lips pressed into each other to keep anything else from coming out.

Bo takes pity on him, rolls onto his hands and knees and crawls to him. Up on his knees, tipping his head, and there it is. The way his blood stalls in his veins in that moment before the kiss, then floods through him in a rush. Shivering and sweating all at once, wanting more, afraid of more, everything in him going two ways at once, leaving him a muddled mix of dizzy and delighted.

More seems like the best option, even if it kills him. It would be an okay way to die. He leans into the kiss, tipping dangerously forward and threatening to send them both into the dirt. Luke’s strong hands on his shoulders and his solid chest against Bo’s keep them upright, but the kiss breaks into laughter.

And this is where being with Luke is different than Peggy Lynn, than any other girl he’s done as little as holding hands with. Girls are like school, needing to be studied on and figured out, and there’s a grading system in their heads. Granted, Bo is better at girls than he ever has been at school, but still, they’re work. Kissing Luke, touching him, being this close together is just an extension of who they already are, who they’ve always been. It’s like playing, just with new and different toys.

Luke shoves him back, not rough, but determined. Settles him on his backside in the dirt of their campsite, then gets up on his knees. Taller than Bo now, he leans forward and tips his head. Quick lick of his lips and then he’s there like he never left, warm and confident as anything. Feels like leaping off a ledge, like drowning in the Chattahoochee River in all the best ways. Somehow, and Bo wouldn’t swear he can remember how, he finds himself tipping, his back against the log Luke was just sitting on, Luke over him and it’s right about then that he realizes it. That, as far as he can remember, this is the first time Luke has done the kissing, instead of just reacting to being kissed. Not just kissing him, but touching, hand running down Bo’s ribcage in a way that almost tickles, that makes his stomach drop, that makes his hands shake as he reaches up to rest them on them on the waist of Luke’s jeans. Thinks of how many times they have sat by a fire with their shirts off, wishes it was summer now so they’d be half naked, is relieved to be wearing clothes. Can’t think straight with the sway of Luke’s back at his fingertips, the tiny puffs of air from Luke’s nose on his cheek, the way kissing Luke is nothing like kissing any girl has ever been or could ever be.

Luke is hot everywhere they are touching, heavy, and no matter how much he doesn’t like to admit it, Luke is still seventeen months older than him, almost a year and a half faster, further along, moving toward places Bo isn’t ready to go yet.

He runs his hand up and back down Luke’s side in a quick, attention-getting movement. 

Finds himself suddenly lonely, on his back in the dirt, Luke’s name panting out of his lips, as his cousin moves back, away, on his knees over him. Leaving him cold in the absence of touch.

Bo scrambles up as fast as he can, racing to beat a lifetime of admonishments about finding kids his own age to play with, and all the other ways Bo gets blamed when Luke thinks he has been too rough. Up to his knees, leaning forward toward a cousin who is leaning back, losing his balance, and it’s just ridiculous when he tips right into Luke, who has to catch him. A laugh or snort or grunt from Luke, but whatever it is gets lost as Bo finds his center of gravity and Luke’s lips at the same time. It’s sloppy, messy, not at all sexy he doesn’t think, but just about the time he’s opening his mouth to make it better, Luke tips back again. Muscled, farm-boy arms there to keep Bo from toppling.

“Bo,” comes out in a pant of breath. “Don’t be starting nothing you ain’t ready to finish.”

Finish. 

“You ever finish with girls, Luke?” It is, he knows even as it is tumbling out of his mouth to fall hollowly into the space between them, a stupid question. For so many reasons having to do with things he knows, things he doesn’t want to know, things he doesn’t want either of them thinking about right now. 

“Bo.” Luke knows it’s a terrible discussion, too. After that one word, his lips get sealed, pressed against each other. Eyes, a strange sepia in the firelight, glowing with warning. 

Hands up in surrender, Bo huffs. He has no good moves on this chessboard, where he can only see the squares right in front of him, while he figures Luke can see the whole thing. He shakes his head, pushes his bangs back from where they fall into his eyes.

“Jesse wants us to work this out,” is only a pawn’s step forward in a world of sideswiping rooks and crooked-hopping knights. But it is enough to make those eyes stop flickering at him and soften. To make all of Luke’s rigid lines and tight angles loosen up, to make him shake his head at stupid cousins who ought to know better, and then to lean in and kiss him. Softly, gentle as a butterfly’s wing on his lips, then gone again.

“Best we douse this fire and get us some sleep. We got to meet up with Jesse before first light.” As if he figures that just like that, he has solved every problem between them.

“I figure,” Bo starts, clears his throat because the adolescent crack in there is all the reason his cousin needs to ignore what he’s got to say. “I figure that we should do some of that,” same gesture between the two of them that Luke used a little while ago, “every day, then maybe we wouldn’t fight so much.”

Luke looks at him as though, after they’ve spent a good ten minutes making out and tussling around on the ground, him asking to for a daily kiss is the strangest thing that has happened tonight.

“If we have to see girls—”

“We got to see girls.”

Bo waves him off. “If we have to see girls at school, then when we come home it should be…” like back when Aunt Lavinia was alive. She and Jesse didn’t exactly make out every day, but everyone around knew they were inseparable, just from those little pecks of kisses, here and there. “We should know that each other is more important than them girls. Then, uh, you’d know Peggy Lynn didn’t mean nothing.” Luke’s eye flash meanly. _Wrong words, Bo._ “Heck, I wouldn’t even, uh…” _Stop talking, Bo._

Luke’s sitting back on his heels, just waiting for more pearls of wisdom from him. Thinking, probably, about what a moron he’s been – dating? Making out with? – hanging out with for his whole life. Thinking, when no part of what they’ve been doing can stand the scrutiny of Luke’s overactive brain.

Bo rocks forward onto all fours, tips his head up at a funny angle, and kisses Luke with no more intent than to show it won’t kill him to be kissed.

“Like that,” he explains.

Luke screws up his face, but he shrugs and his head half nods.

“Okay, can we get some sleep now?”

Together in their tiny tent? Sure, no problem, cuz.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter languished on my drive for no better reason than distraction. And it is short. And the next part will be a while in coming. These are all of my confessions for the day.

Bo has two laughs. One is low and rolling, the other high and giddy. Only one is real, and Luke’s the only one who knows that. Even Daisy and Jesse believe whatever they hear.

That helium giggle is a sure sign that something is slightly off with Bo. Good or bad, when he laughs like that, he’s enduring some kind of strain. Trying to impress or evade or even just to think (because Bo hates to think and his grades go to prove that in twelve different ways) under pressure.

The whole weekend in the woods has echoed with that silly laugh. The one that lets Luke know he has pushed Bo further than he is ready to go. Too far, too rough, too big to shove his cousins around.

“You don’t know your own strength, Luke,” Lavinia used to say. It was supposed to be some manner of solace to him, after he’d been whipped by Jesse. When he was left in the barn to stew in his own juices and Lavinia might have been the only one who ever understood. It wasn’t the whipping that upset him, it was his crying cousins that got under his skin. Made him itch and burn inside so bad that sometimes he figured kicking hay bales might let it out, but it never did. Just left him with a sore foot to match his aching conscience. Lavinia, at least, would tell him what he needed to hear, that he hadn’t done it on purpose (except sometimes when he had) and that he could still fix it. “You just got to be more careful, is all.”

More careful, he can be that. He can keep himself in check, give Bo what he wants without pressing for more. He can take care of his little cousin the same as he always has.

He never meant to get so rough, so pushy, so out of control to begin with. There’s just this part of his brain that he doesn’t wholly control, and it has ideas. It’s had ideas ever since that first time he woke up in the night, halfway excited, halfway embarrassed and had to head off to the bathroom to clean himself up. Just, up until his dumb cousin decided to kiss him, it had ideas about girls.

It can have ideas about girls again. It needs to have ideas about girls because yes, he has “finished” with girls. Of course he has, and it was good. Dangerous, because of daddies with shotguns, because Jesse would whip his hind end clean off if he found out. In fact he started bringing Bo along on his dates because he figured as long as he had his kid cousin along, sex wouldn’t ever quite get to happening. Plus, girls without sex were kind of boring, so it was good to have Bo around for after, because there has never once been a time he couldn’t figure out how to have fun with Bo.

But now sex with girls is a must. It’s a sacrifice he will have to make so that he doesn’t push Bo too far again. The tricky part will be finding the time and place for girls, when he and Bo have an agreement that girls are school-toys only. A rule he made and what the hell was he thinking? Now he’s going to need some fancy footwork and skirting the truth.

That’s a problem for tomorrow. Today he just has to figure out how they are going to redomesticate themselves after three days in the woods, tussling in the grass, sleeping in a heap. How, as they crest this next rise, with their final kills strung over their shoulders, and their tent and bedrolls on their backs, he will get Bo to stop holding his hand. Before they get close to the still, before they reach Jesse, he has to figure out how he will let Bo go for even a minute.


End file.
